


Where the Story Ends (Chuck Hansen)

by shalinabianca



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Everything Hurts, Other, Short One Shot, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, We Weren't Supposed To Care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shalinabianca/pseuds/shalinabianca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raleigh would have never pegged Chuck on being a Gipsy Danger fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Story Ends (Chuck Hansen)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot drabble for Anon who asked for it; prompt from Tumblr user kuro-ecchi; fic theme from 'Where the Story Ends' by The Fray.
> 
> IDK, sorry, this was supposed to be a cutesy one-shot where Rals would tease Chuck, but I guess I got side-tracked by my Chuck Hansen Feels xD
> 
> //Updated 3.29.15.

The Breach was destroyed; the kaiju gone. That annoying, flipping wall-clock had since been inactive. It just… hung up there, reminding everyone. The Anteverse, as the world knew it, was obliterated thanks to Gipsy Danger's nuclear reactor.

    Operation Pitfall took two more Rangers at the end of the Kaiju War; Raleigh almost went with them.

    People died all the time. That's what people do; it's expected. Every nineteen seconds – on average. The two Ranger pilots of Striker Eureka that had sacrificed themselves to make way for Gipsy's were part of those numbers. But to Raleigh Becket, Herc Hansen, Mako Mori, and everyone else in the world, Stacker Pentecost and Chuck Hansen will always be remembered as much more than statistics.

    Research was still set to continue for the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps' K-Science division. Even without the Jaegers, there's more to do, and even more to discover. Herc Hansen, taking over as the new Marshal, made to oversee that everything went smoothly in the last remaining 'Dome in Hong Kong.

    The man hid it well, that was a given. While everyone mourned for their friends and heroes, he mourned the loss of a son.  _A son, his son._ His son that had grown up a boy-soldier; grew up without a mother; grew up detached from the world, thanks to him.

    In those precious moments, Chuck had accepted that the life he once "quite liked" was something he wouldn't be returning to. It was he who thought sacrificing his life in order to save the world would right the wrongs he's made; that it would make the past life he had lived worth something...

    And it was that same son whose room was being cleared out today.

    Herc was too busy to do it himself, with countless meetings and briefings and overseeing. Even though, in the back of his mind, he felt as if it was his job as a father. Chuck's room lay untouched in the weeks following the end of the war. No one has yet left, but the days had droned on and on for most of the remaining crew.

    Raleigh was planning to leave the Shatterdome and the PPDC, travel the world with Mako Mori. Something he once promised his brother. But before he did, he had a debt to pay for the Hansens.

    "You don't need to do it, Raleigh."

    "Got nothing left to do, sir. Might as well lend a hand."

    That's what he aimed to do for his last day at the 'Dome: sort out the room of the late Striker Eureka pilot.

    Herc's lower lip disappeared for a second. "Fine," was his curt response. "Boy, just don't throw anything, we clear?"

    "Yes, sir. Wouldn't dream of it."

    Raleigh had never been to the side of the building where Chuck's room was at; never had the need to. Hell, he once  _despised_  the thought of roaming around by himself and running into Chuck, at some point. Now he never has to worry about that.

    Now he felt a little bad about it.

    The door-lock jammed, but he got it opened eventually. Chuck's bunker-room didn't look any different from the other quarters. There was a queen-sized bed, a desk, a corkboard, a closet, a bathroom... For not being at the Hong Kong Shatterdome long, posters, pictures, and lanyards had decorated the otherwise empty room.

    Normal stuff you'd find in a Ranger's room.

    The Becket boy shuffled his feet sheepishly. He didn't feel like he belonged. Compared to what length his and Chuck's relationship had spanned – from down-right hatred to leveled respect – he stuck out like a thumb.

    In the back of his mind, Raleigh felt like he wasn't meant to move anything. Chuck could probably swim out of the ocean one day and find his old stuff all boxed up, and then go on a rampage.

    Raleigh humored the thought for a bit, the hope to see the young Hansen kicking again.

    Fight to live, live to fight: that's Chuck for you.

    While Raleigh was packing stuff in boxes, it was all he could think about. He was Chuck at one point; in his shoes, figuratively speaking. He was his age once, always coming back after every deployment, starting to get a big head, getting cocky. That changed drastically after Yancy. Raleigh became reserved. Quieter. He's always hated people, but he didn't mind lending a hand. That was Chuck, too. They were two sides of the same coin.

    Maybe, if Raleigh had known him longer, Chuck would have grown on him. Perhaps they would've set old rivalries aside.

    Come to think of the little bastard, Raleigh had an inkling he and Yancy may have met him once before. Or was it the other way around? He could distinctly remember a kid from –

    Raleigh's train of thought was interrupted when his foot kicked something hidden under the mattress. He dropped the box in his hand on top of the bed covers. Raleigh got to his knees, lifting the comforters, and felt around for whatever he had made contact with.

_Cardboard?_

    He pulled it out from under the bed.

   Yep. Shoe box.

    Raleigh cracked a grin. On the cover was, written in big, black block letters:  **DO NOT OPEN**. It was something a teen would do. It was something  _he_ would have done, when he was younger.

    He took off the cover of the box and put it off to the side. His smile stayed where it was. If anything, Raleigh's grin only got broader and broader. The contents of the box were not only amusing, but it actually hit home.

    There was a ten-inch tall figurine of a Gipsy Danger replica, a little scratched and worn. Miniature Lucky Seven and Striker Eureka figures were lying in there as well. Without a second thought, Raleigh propped them up on the bedside drawer. He got to his feet then.

    Something in the box shifted. He blinked.  _Is this really? He didn't._

    It made his stomach churn. Not in a bad way. The way you feel... when one realized that someone cared – when one  _knew_ someone cared. And who would've thought that it was  _Charles Hansen_?

    Raleigh carefully picked up the two action figures into his palm. Both toys were Jaeger Rangers. Both blond. Both brothers. Both in their late-model, white DriveSuits.

    They were in pretty mint condition compared to the Jaegers. And they were of him and Yance. Chuck "Fan-Boy" Hansen. It made the Ranger laugh to himself.

    "Would'a never pegged you as the type, Chuck," Raleigh said into thin air. Barely a whisper, but no one was there to hear it. He wouldn't admit it, but he was hoping that Chuck was listening, wherever he was.

    The former knew that the latter would have punched him for calling him out. That thought made Raleigh steel himself. His grin faded.

    He stared into the box again. Instead of emptiness, he saw smiles. Chuck and Yancy.

    They  _had_ met before.

    The picture wasn't a Polaroid, but it was developed – from the years when pictures were still being developed, mind. It had lain at the bottom of that box for – what?  _Years?_ – and it still looked as good as new, save for the slightly worn corners.

    Yancy's hair was still a little shaggy, the way it was before he regularly got it cut. Chuck was wearing a red bull-cap, donning his own messy ginger locks. The two of them looked cheerful, happy.

    The red-toned date on the corner of the picture said "12/20/19 12:57 PM". If his calculations and memory were correct – and they usually were – that would have been when they were at Manila after the three Jaeger drop. Gipsy Danger had rode alongside Horizon Brave and Lucky Seven – the first team, with Herc and his brother, Scott – and had stayed in the Philippines for a few days before leaving for their respective 'Domes.

    They'd met before. Chuck was a kid before; barely sixteen. Herc was Chuck's hero. Yancy was Chuck's hero.

 _Raleigh_  was Chuck's hero.

    And he never gave the boy the time of day.

    Raleigh left the boxes and action figures where they lay. Those could wait for later. He stood up and pinned the picture onto Chuck's corkboard, smack dab in the middle. A sad smile replaced the sullen look on his face.

    Hopefully, Yancy would do better than him up there.


End file.
